


Forgive Us Our Trespasses

by JusticePlague



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Batsupes Secret Valentines Exchange 2021, Bottom Clark Kent, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Deep Throating, Dom Drop, Green Kryptonite, Hurt/Comfort, Its possible, Kryptonite, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, PWP, Rape, Rimming, Roleplay, Top Bruce Wayne, Whump, also, and also pretend you don't know, but Clark is still an alien, but its, just a bit, just be prepared for that, no capes AU, old west au, on cock, this starts as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticePlague/pseuds/JusticePlague
Summary: If Clark thought he was going to find mercy in Bruce's hands, he was sorely mistaken. And Bruce was going to vastly enjoy punishing Clark for his trespasses.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Batsupes Secret Valentines Exchange 2021





	Forgive Us Our Trespasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trinket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket/gifts).



> This was written for Prompt #29  
>  **Prompt:** Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent in the Old West are from two rival ranches.  
>  **Rating of Fic Preferred:** Mature or Explicit  
>  **Up to Four Deal-Breakers:** No Powers AU, hurt no comfort  
>  **I especially enjoy:** Bottom Clark, whump Clark, happy endings, UST, mpreg, darcyphilia
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, [Trinket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket)!!

The small group of three hit the ridge, reigning their horses in and coming to a stop overlooking the land below.

"Ey, Boss, innit tha' Kent down there?" The youngest of the three men spoke, pointing downhill, toward a man entering the woods a little ways away on a little buckskin horse.

“Sure looks like it,” the other man, that wasn’t the boss, agreed. “What d’ya think, Bruce? Why’d he be on our land, again?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce sighed. “Head on back now, boys, let Alfred know I reckon I’ll be late. I’ll go down and handle Kent.”

“Ya sure, B? We coul’ go with ya, make sure he don’t get up to no good,” the younger’s eyes glimmered with vicious hope.

“No, Jason, I can handle Kent, he’s a good chap, he won’t start nothin’,” Bruce sighed again. “Dick, you keep an eye on Jay, make sure he gets back, too. Now, go on and get, you lot.”

The younger scowled, casting a glare at his companions, before spurring his horse into a gallop back the way they came. The other young man sighed, shaking his head, and spurred his horse into a trot, following slowly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, B, I can handle our Jaybird,” Dick called back, right before he kicked his horse into a gallop after the younger.

Bruce couldn’t keep from sighing again, he’s done that a lot since he had taken in those two, and started his horse in an easy walk diagonally down the steep hill. At the bottom, he set his horse on the path the other pair had taken. And then, he let his horse have his head and held on as his stallion took off, hitting his stride quickly, and tearing over the land.

Bruce knew that his horse made quite a sight to see in a full gallop, with his flaxen mane and tail flowing in the wind, contrasting harshly with the midnight body. His boy's kind was rarer this far west, but Bruce picked him up in Kentucky on his way here, a few years back, and he didn’t regret it. He might attract unwanted attention, but he was unerringly loyal and always eager to please, with a gentleness envied by many.

As they began to enter the trees, themselves, Bruce slowed his horse into a quicker version of his natural gait, an ambling single foot, not quite a trot, not quite a walk, with four distinct hoofbeats in an almost consistent rhythm. Bruce kept his eyes peeled, knowing Kent could be anywhere. The man seemed to hold no fear. He was probably chasing that damned cur, a filthy white mutt, of his anyway. Bruce didn’t want the mangy beast anywhere near his prized dogs. The only reason he hasn’t shot it yet was Kent’s mother. She reminded him too much of his late mother, God rest her soul.

When he was deep enough into the woods that he could no longer see the entrance, he noticed a fresh trail of hoofprints veering off the main trail. Bruce gritted his teeth and guided his stallion down the path. They followed it for a little while before they found Kent’s horse tied to a tree on the other side of a creek. Bruce guided his boy over it, knowing that several yards down, the creek deepened considerably, before dismounting.

The man led his horse over to a tree away from the other horse, before tying the reins around a sturdy branch. It wouldn’t hold if something spooked his boy, but his boy knew where home was, and he’s returned every time. Bruce looked around, trying to determine which direction Kent had gone in.

When he found the trail, he followed it with his eyes to the cave slightly upstream. The creek didn’t come from the cave, because 20 years ago, the cave hadn’t been there. He huffed, vastly annoyed, and reached into his saddlebag. He shoved a few things into his pants pockets, before pulling out a small lantern.

“Goliath, I do so hate this man,” Bruce confided to his horse, petting his neck gently. “Stay put, boy, I’ll be back soon.”

Then Bruce followed the path left by Kent, grumbling the entire way. When he reached the mouth of the small cavern, he stopped to pull out his matches, and light them off their case, so that he could light his lantern.

Bruce could only hope Kent had a light with him, but he doubted it, knowing the other man. He sighed, again, before starting in. Between Kent and his boy's, Bruce was certain he sighed enough for the entire world, they always seemed to strive to exasperate him. Kent was far more annoying and frustrating, though. Jason was 14, he had reason to be a reckless hellion. But, Kent was somewhere around 10 years older, he should know better. But then, the man seemed to always walk away unscathed, so maybe he wasn't quite as reckless as he appeared.

Bruce followed the cave for a few moments before he heard a low moaning sound, much like someone was in pain. He followed it farther into the cave, thinking it was some kind of justice Kent went and got himself hurt. It was a cruel thought, but Bruce couldn't help it after Kent had won at an auction recently, against Jason. Their ranches were always in competition, anyway. Bound to be some resentment and meanness between them, especially as the owners.

Bruce saw the green glow before he discovered its source. He quickened his steps, it was extremely odd, after all. The rancher didn’t know a damn thing that created a green light. What he found made him stop dead in his tracks, as he took in the sight and a cruel grin slowly spread across his lips.

Kent was on his side, slightly curled, with his arms on his stomach. Several of the green rocks from the meteors that had fallen decades ago, and made this cave, were spread about him. The lurid green glow emanated from them, making Kent look sickly. The younger man was groaning in pain, eyes squeezed shut and tears leaking from beneath the lids.

Bruce took a step toward him, and Kent’s eyes snapped open, showing his pain vividly. It suddenly made sense to Bruce why the other man avoided the rocks like the plague, though he didn’t know why they affected him like this. One of Kent’s hands reached for Bruce as his lips moved. Bruce knew what he was trying to say, and he couldn’t help the dark chuckle at his rival’s helplessness. If Clark thought he was going to find mercy in Bruce's hands, he was sorely mistaken. And Bruce was going to vastly enjoy punishing Clark for his trespasses.

Bruce walked over, kicking Kent’s hand out of his way, to kneel by Kent’s chest. He tucked a raven curl behind the man’s ear, smirking down at his helpless rival. 

“Well, well, Clark, looks like ya got yerself into a bind, shoulda jus' stayed away from them there green rocks,” Bruce’s voice was low and gravely. “I’m gonna have to punish ya for bein’ on my land again, boy.”

“Wayne, please,” Clark’s voice was weak and raspy.

“Ya’d ‘ave made a good Mary-Ann, Clark, such a pretty mouth,” Bruce’s smirk only grew crueler, as his thumb traced Clark's plush pink lips.

Clark attempted to shrink away from him, horror dawning on his face like a sunrise, but couldn’t move because of the pain he was in, aside from curling in on himself just a bit more. Bruce just chuckled at him, before roughly forcing his arms away from his chest.

“Aw, come on, Clark, lemme see all yer pretty skin.”

Bruce started unbuttoning the shirt, knocking Clark’s weak attempts to stop him away. Once he had gotten the shirt unbuttoned, he ripped it from the younger man’s body, snapping his suspenders, pulling them away as well, and revealing skin normally tan but washed sickly pale.

“Br-Bruce, puh-please!” Clark whimpered, fresh tears spilling from his gemstone eyes.

“Yer so pretty when ya cry, acushla,” Bruce told him, forcing him onto his back.

Bruce shifted to straddle Clark’s chest and roughly palmed his erection through his trousers.

“Now, little Mary-Ann,” Bruce crooned down to him, a hand tangling into the younger man's curls to keep him still, “you’re going to suck my prick, like a good tart, y’hear me?”

"N-no, please! That's… that's too French!" Clark cried, shaking his head as much as he could. Bruce slowly undid his pants with one hand, pulled out his hardened cock, and rubbed the head of his flushed uncut member against Clark’s lips, daring him to open. Clark kept his lips pursed, staring up at Bruce with wide, fearful eyes.

“Aw, Clark, come on now, open up,” Bruce coaxed him. “I can make yer life awfully hard, boy, y’know tha’.”

Clark squeezed his eyes shut as his lips slowly parted. More tears tracked from down his face, exciting Bruce just that much more. He cruelly forced his cock into Clark's mouth forcing the younger man's jaw wider. Clark let out a sob and the sudden vibration caused Bruce to thrust, roughly, farther into Clark's unwilling, wet heat and into the tight channel of his throat.

"Oh, Lord, Clark, your mouth feels incredible. Haven't had this since I came back from my grand tour," Bruce groaned, thrusting slowly, prolonging his pleasure and Clark's torment. "Get it nice an' wet now, s'tha only slick yer gonna get, boy."

Clark's fearful whimper vibrated around Bruce's prick, causing him to thrust into Clark's throat again and groan. Bruce held himself there for a moment, watching the panic on Clark's face as he realized he couldn't breathe. His rival's eyes opened, watery orbs begging him for mercy. 

Bruce relented, he didn't want to kill the other man, after all, just punish him. He slid his cock completely from Clark's mouth, a string of saliva keeping them connected. At least until Clark took a harsh, gasping breath. He exhaled in a broken sob, and turned his head to the side, not wanting to look at his tormentor.

Bruce lifted himself off of Clark. As much as he liked having the other man's mouth on him, he wanted that fine ass. 

As Bruce moved, Clark summoned the little bit of strength he had left, and rolled to his stomach, attempting to crawl away from the other man.

Bruce gave another dark chuckle, dropping to his knees by the younger man's feet. He let the other get a few more inches away, before reaching out and snagging his ankles. The older man pulled off the other's boots, tossing them away before he dragged him back. 

“Please!” Clark cried out, clawing against the ground, trying to find purchase to pull himself away.

Bruce outright laughed at the terrified man’s attempts, as he dragged him closer. The older man wasted no time grabbing the younger man’s pants and drawers and pulling them down in one swift motion. Clark whimpered fearfully as Bruce grabbed his thighs and forced his ass up in the air.

“Bruce, please, stop,” Clark whined, struggling against the strong hands holding him.

“Nah, boy,” Bruce murmured, his hands shifting up to the perfect globes of Clark’s ass. “I ain’t done this since my grand tour, either…”

Bruce’s voice trailed off as he spread Clark’s cheeks, revealing the puckered rosebud hiding there. He ignored Clark's whimpers as he bent his head down, scenting the younger man’s most private area. 

“Bruce, please!” Clark’s voice echoed off the cave walls, a terrified wail, as Bruce’s tongue swept over his entrance in one broad stroke.

Clark’s body shook as he sobbed, feeling helpless and violated in a way he hadn’t thought possible until now. Bruce's tongue was inside him, tasting and stroking his sensitive flesh, as he whimpered. The younger rancher shouted in pain as one of Bruce’s fingers breached him, replacing the older man’s tongue and forcing its way inside, regardless of the resistance.

“Yer so tight, boy,” Bruce leered. “Have ya ne'er lain with another man? Yer little friends ain’t take a shot at this fine ass, yet?”

Clark’s only answer was a harsh sob as a second finger forced him open, increasing the burn. The fingers twisted and moved inside him, causing him a great deal of discomfort. But Bruce paid the young man no mind and continued to do as he pleased to his victim.

When Bruce’s fingers were removed, Clark again attempted to escape, managing to rise up on his hands and knees to attempt to crawl. This time, though, it wasn’t Bruce pulling him back that stopped him. A hard blow landed on his ass, sending him sprawling. He cried out at the contact, and then he was being pulled and turned over Bruce’s lap. The way Bruce was sitting, on his knees and leaning slightly back, and the way he pulled Clark onto him, forced Clark's ass up, again, and his shoulders down. It also brought their cocks together, and Clark felt his face flame as his heated, turgid flesh touched Bruce's. He turned his face away from the older man, and tucked his face into his shoulder, trying to hide his shame.

“Oh, yer hard and wet. Ya like this,” Bruce chuckled, a hand stroking over Clark's ribs and down to his hip. “I knew ya were cracked, kid.”

“No, no, I don’t, I swear, please,” Clark cried, futilely wiggling in Bruce’s grasp.

This forced their cocks to rub together, and Bruce couldn’t help tossing his head back, with a groan, at how good it felt. He pressed Clark’s hips down and rutted against him momentarily, before releasing him with a growl.

“Stay still!” Bruce ordered him. “If ya make me spill, I’ll jus’ keep ya ‘til I can go ‘gain, boy.”

Clark whimpered but ceased his wiggling, desperate for this to just be over. He forced himself not to react as Bruce’s hand caressed and fondled his fleshy globes, even when the older man’s fingertips brushed over his sensitive hole. Unexpectedly, Bruce’s hand left his ass to come down hard, causing Clark to flinch and cry out in pain.

“Ya’ve been tol’ to stay off m’land, boy,” Bruce growled, laying another spank across Clark’s ass.

“I’m sorry!” Clark cried as a third strike landed. He continued crying out those words in almost a chant as more blows landed and his cries died down into pathetic whimpers. “‘M s’rry!”

When Bruce had spanked Clark to his heart’s content, he sat there and pet his head for a moment, enjoying the feel of the silky soft strands. He could still feel Clark’s erection pressed against his, it hadn’t flagged at all and seemed like he was even harder, regardless of the fact the man trembled as if he were freezing. Bruce had always known Clark was a little different, but he was enjoying this, which gave Bruce a dark sense of pride and pleasure. Oh, he was never letting this man forget this.

“Seems like all tha’ hard work ya put in earlier dried up, boy,” Bruce snickered. “If ya want anythin’ to ease the way for my prick, I guess ya best get to work.”

Clark whimpered but knew he wasn't going to get away, not with the green rocks and Bruce's hand in his hair. So, he awkwardly scooted himself off of the other man, and turned so that he was on his hands and knees in front of him. He cast a pleading look up at his tormentor but found no mercy in those eyes. Instead, he saw the older man's naked desire and dark amusement.

"Bruce, please," Clark tried pleading, his voice hoarse and quiet.

Bruce's only answer was a cruel chuckle as he pushed Clark's face down towards his crotch. Clark whined, closing his eyes, as his mouth dropped open to accept Bruce's hard cock.

Clark licked and sucked at the other man's hardness earnestly, covering it in as much saliva as he could. Bruce groaned as he thrust into the other man’s mouth, setting himself a leisurely rhythm. 

When Bruce felt like he was going to spill down that pretty throat, he abruptly pushed Clark off of him, sending the other man backward and to the ground. Clark’s eyes were wide open, but he was unable to see past the green glow filling his vision, as his body twisted, trying to escape the source of his agony. The sudden shove had thrown Clark closer to the green rocks again, and one of them was only a few scant inches from his face.

Bruce sneered down at the other man as he writhed in pain. He gave himself a couple of rough strokes before reaching out and grabbing ahold of Clark.

"Please, please, no," Clark whimpered as he was dragged back towards Bruce, though thankfully away from the rock, and flipped roughly onto his back.

Bruce didn't deign to respond, however, and simply forced Clark's legs to spread to accommodate his broadness between them. Then, he was pushed Clark's knees towards his chest, folding the younger man in half and lining himself up to desecrate him. He paused there with his cock kissing the other man’s entrance, and stared down at his rival ranch’s owner. 

The younger man was still shaking, presumably in fear, and stared up at him with wide eyes, though his tears had dried. His cock, though, stood proudly at attention and dripped a steady supply of precome that was soaking the dark curls around his cock. Bruce couldn’t stop the smile the sight gave him, nor did he try.

Bruce leaned down, wanting to kiss the other man’s soft-looking lips. But, Clark turned away, which irritated Bruce. He sat back up, gripped the younger man’s legs, and drove into him cruelly.

Clark’s back bowed and he screamed in pain, his voice echoing off the cave walls. Bruce stopped, but not for the other man, for himself. 

“Please, please, stop,” Clark was almost chanting, his voice a stressed whine. 

The younger man was thrashing as much as Bruce’s hold would allow, and the tight heat of his passage undulating around him was almost enough to make him spill his seed, already. He wanted to prolong this, so he stopped, grasping Clark’s thighs hard enough to bruise. Clark was also crying again, tears spilling from sapphire eyes, as he whimpered and sobbed in pain. Clark stared sightlessly, at the cave wall, his mind trying to separate itself from the events occurring to his body.

Bruce ignored him and pulled out just to thrust in roughly, experimentally. He did this a few more times before he shifted his position. Clark cried out again in a keening moan, as Bruce’s cock pressed into, and over, his prostate. It happened again and again, and Clark slowly stopped whimpering in pain and started moaning in pleasure.

“Please, please,” Clark was still begging, but he wasn’t quite sure when it went from begging for it to be over, to begging for more. His tears didn’t stop, however, because his mind was torn apart. How could he both not want this and want this? It was tormenting him, causing him to continue thrashing against Bruce’s hold.

“You do love this, don’t you, boy?” Bruce chuckled, leaning over Clark.

“Please, Bruce, please,” Clark whined, his hips moving to meet Bruce’s.

Bruce’s hand closed around the younger man’s turgid flesh, smirking as his body undulated at the contact. Bruce stroked him once, and Clark thrashed so hard he broke from Bruce's grasp. Instead of attempting to break free, though, as he had assumed, Clark’s legs wrapped around Bruce, forcing him deeper.

Bruce resumed his rough thrusts into Clark’s tight heat, but it would be more accurate to say Clark was fucking himself on Bruce’s rod. His eagerness to chase his orgasm also meant that he was practically fucking Bruce’s fist as well, but his body was moving of its own volition, even as he brokenly moaned pleas. Whether or not the pleas were for more or for it to end, not even Clark was certain.

Clark’s climax crashed into him, ripping a wail from within him. His body tensed and then quaked underneath Bruce as his cock spurted milky white ropes over their torsos. The way Clark’s muscles contracted around Bruce’s prick had him groaning and Bruce’s release hit him a moment later. And, the older man leaned down to sink his teeth into Clark’s shoulder to muffle his moan. 

The last thing Clark knew before his world was swallowed by black, was Bruce’s teeth tearing into his skin, and the warmth of Bruce’s seed as it flooded his insides.

* * *

He blinked his eyes open slowly, noticing the lack of the green glow almost instantly. In its place was the warm golden-orange of an oil lamp sitting several feet away. The young man stretched, taking inventory of his condition. His bruises, abrasions, and other various wounds were healed. He also felt clean, like he had been washed off afterward. But his muscles still ached, a combination of the green rocks and being well-fucked.

Clark stood up slowly, looking around for Bruce and collecting their things. He didn’t know quite how long he slept, this time. He grabbed his clothes and found the tin of tallow Bruce must have used under them. He knew Bruce felt slicker than he should have with just saliva, but he understood. Bruce didn’t want to hurt him, even if Bruce did want to fulfill a fantasy of his. Clark wandered out of the cave, still fully nude, figuring he would find Bruce rinsing off in the creek.

He was right, he did find Bruce in the creek. Though Clark would not call what he was doing rinsing. Bruce had taken his bandana, covered it in sand from the bottom of the creek, and was scrubbing himself raw. His back was to Clark, but he turned his head to stare at Clark with wide, horrified eyes.

All Clark had to see was the obvious tear on Bruce’s face, and he was dropping his clothes on the bank of the creek and moving towards Bruce.

“No, stay back!” Bruce cried out, whipping around to face Clark fully and back away, his eyes warily tracking Clark.

“Bruce?” Clark edged forward until his toes were being lapped at by the water.

“Get away from me Clark, please,” Bruce’s shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. “How can you even want to look at me after that?”

"Bruce…" Clark's voice trailed off by and he was on Bruce in a blink, wrapping the other man in his strong arms. "Bruce, macusla…"

Bruce struggled against the younger man's iron grip. 

"Macushla? No. I'm a monster, a vulgar, uncivilized beast."

"Tell me why you think this, Bruce," Clark demanded, keeping the other man forcefully pressed to his chest.

"You know," Bruce growled.

"I said tell me, Wayne."

"You were there! You know! You know I laughed as you cried, as I hurt you, as I ra-," Bruce's voice broke, and he sagged into Clark, sobbing harshly. "Don't deserve you. I liked it. I liked it all."

"Bruce, so did I," Clark held him closer. "I asked for you to do that. Does that make me a depraved monster, too?"

"What? No! You were… you were the one that got hurt."

"Bruce, I-"

"No, Clark, you don't understand. Your tears, watching you struggle and fight, covering you in bruises… It excited me. I watched you tear open your skin trying to escape from me and I laughed, Clark. I laughed."

"Bruce, if I didn't like what was going on, if it was too much..." Clark sighed, "We have words to stop it. We agreed on them. You knew nothing you did to me would last, you knew I was liking it. You couldn't even keep from opening me up first, or from using tallow to make it easier on me. We planned this for months, and I asked you not to do either of those things, but you did, because you didn't want to hurt me. You knew I would heal as soon as you took them goddamn rocks away."

Bruce sniffled, and shook his head, trying to deny it.

"No, Bruce, it's true. I asked you to do that, I wanted you to do it. And Bruce, I loved it. You know I did."

"Clark…" Bruce's voice trailed off as Clark took the bandana he was using as a rag from his fingers. "I… You shouldn't even want to touch me… Not after that."

Clark sighed, rinsing the cloth off, before raising to wipe over Bruce's broad shoulders and down his arms.

"Bruce, I loved it. It was fantastic. I'm all healed up, and you even cleaned me up after, you knew I was healed. You wouldn't have left me until I was. I know this. And Bruce? That's one of the reasons I love you. That's the reason you're my spark, and not Wilson or Luthor, or someone else. I choose you, and not just to share this with, but to share all of me with." Clark paused and started to stroke Bruce's back. "It was perfect and I loved it," Clark assured him. "Now, relax, let me clean you up, show you how much I appreciated it."

Bruce closed his eyes and let Clark manhandle and wash him. He didn't understand how Clark could accept, even love and desire, the darkness within him. But, he didn't have the will to argue with the other man, not anymore. After all, Bruce knew he was right, Clark seemed to know him better than he knew himself. He just relaxed into Clark's strong, inhuman arms, and let the younger man carefully wash him.

**Author's Note:**

> Mary-Ann is a Victorian Era way of saying rentboy. I figured it was acceptable, since he went on a Grand Tour, and would have spent time in London.
> 
> Acushla and macushla are terms of endearment, anglicized from the original Gaelic (a cuisle and mo cuisle respectively). They basically mean darling, sweetheart, beloved (mo gives it a my at the front, for the most part). It's a shortened version of a cuisle ma chroí, which translates literally to pluse of my heart. I figured, with Bruce having scottish in him, it'd work, because its a phrase that's the same in both the Irish and Scottish variations of the language. Though, I know them from the Irish Gaelic.
> 
> That's too French... Well, fellatio was seen as too weird, too foreign in Old West America, and they would say something like that as it being Too French. (and I figured if a blowjob was too fucked up, they'd have had a heart attack at rimming, which is why Bruce ain't done that since his grand tour, either, but Clark was willing to be talked into both)
> 
> Tallow is similar to lard (which is similar to like.. crisco? I guess?) but made from beef.
> 
> Spark, as in "you're my spark" as said by Clark... Spark was an old west term for lover or beau.
> 
> If there's any errors, feel free to let me know.
> 
> If you like SuperBat and want to get in on helping plan events  
> Or any other assorted shenanigans,  
> Join Us!  
> [Here, at the BatSupes Community!](https://discord.gg/5Na3YGx)


End file.
